I trust that I may be pardoned if I speak of my brother, Charles G.
Davis, of whose early life, though only two years have elapsed since
his death, most of my readers know little or nothing. The son of
William Davis, Jr., and Joanna (White) Davis, he was born May 30,
1820, in the house now known as the Plymouth Rock House on Cole’s
Hill. After receiving a common school education in Plymouth, he was
fitted for college, under the direction of Hon. John A. Shaw of
Bridgewater, and graduated at Harvard in 1840. He studied law in the
office of Jacob H. Loud of Plymouth, at the Harvard Law school, and
in the office of Hubbard and Watts in Boston, and was admitted to the
bar in Plymouth at the August term of the Common Pleas Court in 1842,
establishing himself in practice in Boston, where he remained until
1853. During his nine years residence in Boston, he was at various
times in partnership with William H. Whitman, George P. Sanger and
Seth Webb. In 1848 he was one of the prominent organizers of the
Free Soil Party, and was a delegate to the Buffalo Convention, which
nominated Martin Van Buren for President, and Charles Francis Adams
for Vice President.
In 1851 he was tried before Benjamin F. Hallet, U. S. Commissioner,
for complicity in the rescue of Shadrach, a fugitive slave. The
charge was that as he was entering the court room, Shadrach was
going out, and that he held the door in such a way as to make the
escape effectual. Though he was acquitted, I never knew how much or
how little, if at all, he aided the negro in his flight. In 1853 Mr.
Davis was a member of the state constitutional convention, and in
that year changed his residence to Plymouth, and building a house,
established there his permanent home. In 1856 he was appointed a
member of the State Board of Agriculture, and in the same year chosen
President of the Plymouth County Agricultural Society, retaining
the latter office until 1876. In 1859 he was chosen an overseer of
Harvard University. In 1861 he was appointed by Gov. Andrew on a
commission to propose a plan for a State Agricultural College, and
after the establishment of that institution, served as one of its
trustees many years. In 1862 he represented his town in the General
Court, and in the same year was appointed under the U. S. Revenue
law assessor for the first District, holding that office until
1869. In 1874 he was appointed Judge of the 3d District Court, and
remained on the bench until his death. He loved his native town, and
was always recognized as a public spirited man, who would make a
liberal response to every call aiming at its welfare. He built Davis
building in 1854, the brick block at the corner of Railroad avenue in
1870, and was for many years the largest individual holder of real
estate in the town. He married November 19, 1845, Hannah Stevenson,
daughter of Col. John B. Thomas and Mary (LeBaron) Thomas, and has
two children living, Joanna, wife of Richard H. Morgan, and Charles
S. Davis, a graduate at Harvard in 1880, and now practicing law in
Plymouth.
As thirty-seven years have elapsed since the death of Robert B. Hall,
I am inclined to think that three-quarters of my readers know no
more concerning him than that his widow was until her recent death a
much respected resident in Plymouth. Mr. Hall was the son of Charles
and Catherine Hall, and was born in Boston, January 12, 1812. He had
not as far as I know a collegiate education, but prepared for the
Congregational ministry at the Yale Divinity school. After leaving
the school he spent two years in Europe, where he gratified his taste
not only by literary pursuits, but also by the study of art in its
various forms. He served also during his absence as an agent of the
American Anti-Slavery Society. In 1837, soon after his return, he was
settled over the Third Society in Plymouth, whose place of worship
was on Pleasant street, opposite Training Green. In that year he
delivered an address before the Pilgrim Society on the anniversary
of the Landing of the Pilgrims, and in 1839 on the same occasion an
address before the Third church. In 1841 he delivered an address at
the dedication of Oak Grove cemetery.
In 1840, largely through his influence, the present church on the
north side of Town Square was built under the name of the Church of
the Pilgrimage, and a new society was formed called the Society of
the Pilgrimage.
In 1844 Mr. Hall became Episcopalian in faith, and at his house on
the 15th of November in that year, the present Episcopal Society was
formed, and on the 3d of October, 1846, the church on Russell street
was consecrated with Theodore W. Snow, rector, who had been chosen
on the 13th of the previous April. At about that time Mr. Hall was
called to St. James’ Episcopal church in Roxbury, where he remained
several years. In 1849 he returned to Plymouth, where he preached
for a time in the Robinson church, and soon after built the house on
the corner of Lothrop Place, which he made his home until his death.
In 1855 he joined the Know Nothing movement, and was chosen State
Senator, and in 1856 he was chosen by the Know Nothings, member of
Congress. In 1858 on the termination of the Know Nothing party, he
was sent back to Congress by the Republicans, thus serving two terms
in Washington. After his retirement from public life he devoted
himself to literary pursuits, and in 1864 delivered the oration at
the dedication of the Masonic building in Boston on the corner of
Tremont and Boylston streets.
Mr. Hall married in 1841 Abby Mitchell, daughter of Nathaniel Morton
Davis, and died April 15, 1868.
I suppose that few of my readers know that Jonathan Walker, the man
with the branded hand, ever lived in Plymouth. About fifty years ago,
or perhaps a little earlier, he lived in the house now standing in
what is called the Nook at the head waters of Hobb’s Hole brook. I
do not remember to have ever seen him, but I recall the time when he
was complained of for shingling his house on the Sabbath. He was born
in Harvard, Mass., March 22, 1799, and at the age of seventeen went
to sea. When quite young he assisted Benjamin Lundy in colonizing
slaves in Mexico, and for a time lived with his family in Florida. In
1844 he assisted four slaves to escape by water, but was overtaken
and captured with his companions by a Revenue Cutter, which was
sent in pursuit. He was carried to Pensacola, and after trial for
his offense was sentenced to stand one hour in the pillory, to pay
a fine of one hundred and fifty dollars, and be branded on the hand
with the letters S. S., signifying slave stealer. It is creditable to
Southern humanity that a blacksmith refused to heat the instrument of
torture. He remained in prison eleven months in default of payment
of the fine, and was then by the aid of Northern friends released.
After his release he delivered lectures in various Northern towns,
and then settled down in Plymouth. In 1863 he bought a farm in Lake
Harbor, Michigan, and carried on the business of raising fruit until
his death, April 30, 1875. He left behind him in Plymouth a son John,
whom I knew very well, and whom it fell to me once to aid during a
pecuniary embarrassment. His father had neglected his education, but
he was a noble fellow in whose presence I always felt that I was in
the presence of a man.
I think he was one of not more than twenty men whose personality
during my long life has impressed me. He always called me William,
and I always called him John. I would have trusted to him my life in
any emergency, for I knew that he would have risked his own to save
the life of a fellow man. He held a commission as pilot for some
years, and in appearance an ideal pilot he was. With his broad Scotch
face, almost buried in hair and whiskers, it was easy to imagine him
in his tarpaulin and oil clothes beating his pilot lugger up channel
in a heavy sea. About eight years ago he went to Michigan to live
with a sister on a farm which his father had occupied, and a few
months ago I heard of his death.
I have spoken of Joseph Bartlett, who lived on the corner of Court
street and Court square, but there was another Joseph Bartlett of
whom probably few of my readers have ever heard. He was a man of
diversified talents, of diversified traits of character, and led a
diversified life. He was author, poet, orator, lecturer, lawyer,
merchant, gambler, prisoner for debt, and generally an adventurer.
He was son of Sylvanus and Martha (Wait) Bartlett, and was born in
Plymouth in 1761. His father was a well to do merchant, who owned
real estate in the neighborhood of the present junction of High and
Russell streets. He had a sister, Sophia, who married Benjamin Drew,
the father of our late deceased friend, Benjamin Drew, and I have
always supposed that our friend inherited his brilliant talents from
his mother’s side of the house. Mr. Bartlett graduated at Harvard in
1782, and studied law in Salem, and was recommended to be sworn as
attorney in 1788. Soon after the close of the revolution he went to
England, and in London, attracted by his eccentricities and wit much
attention. One evening at the theatre during the performance of a
play in which American soldiers were caricatured as cobblers, tailors
and tinkers, he stood up in the pit and called for cheers for the
army of cobblers, tailors and tinkers who had defeated the British.
The interference so far from being resented, was taken in good part,
and the young Londoners took him into their companionship and invited
him to the clubs where he was for a time made much of. He afterwards
fell into gambling habits, and finally was imprisoned for debt. He
wrote a play, and from the proceeds of its sale obtained a release,
after which for a short time he appeared on the stage. After his
return home he opened a law office in Woburn, and painted it black,
calling it “the coffin” to attract notice. He afterwards removed to
Cambridge, and in 1799 delivered a poem before the Harvard Phi Beta
Kappa Society on “Physiognomy,” in which some of his allusions, like
the following, were believed to be personal:
“First on the list observe that woman’s form,
Who looks a very monster in a storm.
Her skinny lips, her pointed nose behold,
And say if nature’s marked her for a scold;
Observe her chin, her every feature trace,
And see the fury trembling in her face;
By nature made to mar the joys of life;
And damn that man who has her for a wife.”
In 1823 he delivered a Fourth of July oration in Boston, and recited
a poem entitled, “The New Vicar of Bray.” At one time in his varied
career he was a member of the Maine legislature, and at another had a
law office in Portsmouth, N. H. In 1823 he published a collection of
“Aphorisms on men, manners, principles and things,” and also an essay
on “The blessings of poverty,” prefaced by the following lines:
I tell thee Poverty that you and I
Have friendly met together;
Thou art the soul of minstrelsy
In every kind of weather.
Through all life’s journey thou hast not
From me an hour departed;
Thou never hast my track forgot,
Which proves thee most true hearted.
I have two letters from Mr. Bartlett to my grandfather, William
Davis, soliciting aid, and one to my grandfather from President
Kirkland of Harvard University, inclosing thirteen dollars
contributed by a few Cambridge gentlemen with the request that
he would use it for Mr. Bartlett’s benefit. He married Anna May,
daughter of Thomas Witherell of Plymouth, and died in Boston, October
21, 1827.
Of Perez Morton, a Plymouth man, and one of the most distinguished
members of the Massachusetts bar in the latter part of the eighteenth
century, and the first half of the nineteenth, probably few of my
Plymouth readers have ever heard. He was son of Joseph and Amiah
(Bullock) Morton of Plymouth, and was born October 22, 1750. He
graduated at Harvard in 1771, and was recommended to be sworn as
attorney in 1774. In 1786 he was made a Barrister, and on the 7th
of September, 1810, he was appointed Attorney General. At the time
of the appointment of Mr. Morton as Attorney General, the office
of Solicitor General was occupied by Daniel Davis, who had been
appointed January 20, 1802, under an act passed March 4, 1800,
reviving the office which had been discontinued for a time after
the revolution. In 1821 it having been the general feeling for some
time that the two offices were unnecessary, the legislature, while
unwilling on account of the respect entertained for their incumbents,
to abolish either, passed an act providing “that whenever the office
of Attorney General or Solicitor General shall become vacant by
death, resignation or otherwise, the salary annexed to the office,
which shall first so become vacant as aforesaid, shall thenceforth
cease and determine.” As neither death nor resignation occurred, an
act was passed March 14, 1832, to take effect June 1, abolishing
both offices and establishing the office of Attorney General for
the Commonwealth. On the 31st of May, therefore, 1832, Mr. Morton
went out of office, and James T. Austin was appointed under the new
law, Attorney General of the Commonwealth. Sarah Morton, the wife of
Perez, was an authoress of some repute. She wrote a book entitled,
“The power of Sympathy,” a copy of which is in the library of the
Pilgrim Society, which is claimed to have been the first American
novel. Mr. Morton died in Boston, October 14, 1837.
I cannot pass by Court Square without a notice of Mrs. Nicolson’s
boarding house, which stood many years on the north side of the
Square. Thomas Nicholson, son of James, came into possession of the
house after the death of his father in 1772. He married for a second
wife about 1790, Hannah, daughter of John Otis, and sister of Mrs.
Grace Heyman Goddard, already noticed as the mother of Mrs. Abraham
Jackson. Thomas Nicolson was a shipmaster, and I believe was for some
time before his death in the United States Revenue Service, and died
on the island of Gaudaloupe, February 9, 1798.
He was also during the revolution commander of the privateer sloop
America, carrying six swivels and seventy men, owned by William
Watson, Ephraim Spooner and others. Capt. Nicolson had by his first
wife Sarah Mayhew, nine children: Sarah, 1771; Hannah, 1773; Polly,
1775; Elizabeth, 1777; Lucy Mayhew, 1778; Nancy, 1780; Thomas, 1782;
James, 1784, and Anna. Of these Hannah married John Morong; Polly
married John Allen of Salem, and Anna married John D. Wilson of
Salem. Lucy Mayhew died in Boston, January 21, 1858. By his second
wife, Hannah Otis, he had Samuel, 1791, who married Sarah Brinley,
and died in Boston, January 6, 1866; Hannah Otis, 1793, who married
William Spooner; Daniel, 1796, who died March 6, 1815; Caroline,
1798, who married Edward Miller of Quincy.
The estate when Capt. Nicolson died extended from the present yard
of Mr. Hedge to the line of Mr. Bittinger, and consisted of the
main house and a range of outbuildings which included a woodshed,
chaise house, ice house and barn, with a large garden in the rear.
After Capt. Nicolson’s death, but precisely when I do not know, Mrs.
Nicolson fitted up her house as an inn, and called it the Old Colony
House. The Pilgrim House was the stage house, and Mrs. Nicolson’s
house was the lawyer’s house. The judges, however, sought private
lodgings, and I remember that Chief Justice Shaw always occupied
a front parlor in the house opposite Court square, which was the
residence of Ichabod Shaw, where the Methodist church now stands.
Among the regular boarders in the Old Colony House whom I remember
were Samuel Davis, Ebenezer G. Parker, cashier of the Old Colony
Bank, Gustavus Gilbert, attorney, Eliab Ward, student at law, Isaac
N. Stoddard and Hiram Fuller, teachers. During the sessions of
the court it was the gathering place of the lawyers who, without
railroad conveniences, made a week of it under Mrs. Nicolson’s
roof. There might be found Charles J. Holmes of Rochester, Seth
Miller of Wareham, Zachariah Eddy of Middleboro, Williams Latham of
Bridgewater, William Baylies and Austin Packard of West Bridgewater,
Welcome Young of East Bridgewater, Kilborn Whitman of Pembroke, and
Ebenezer Gay of Hingham. To these were sometimes added James T.
Austin, Attorney General, Franklin Dexter and Rufus Choate. Timothy
Coffin of New Bedford generally attended the Plymouth court, and
was sought for in many cases on one side or the other to make the
argument to the jury. If he could find anybody to play a game of
cards he would play nearly all night, and come into court in the
morning looking as fresh as a rose. The house was a rambling one with
sleeping rooms arranged in such a way that it was difficult to find
them. There was one in particular through which it was necessary for
the occupants of the other rooms to pass. This room was assigned on
one occasion to Mr. Choate, whose habit it was to retire early. In
the morning when he appeared at the breakfast table and was asked how
he had slept, he answered, “Very well, I thank you, considering I
slept in the highway.” As the lawyers sat by the fire in the evening,
Mr. Eddy in a dressing gown, and Mr. Latham securing a seat near the
spittoon, occasionally some one would say, “Packard, are we there?”
To understand this question, a story must be told. In the early days
of the Old Colony Railroad, just after what was called the Abington
branch was built, the lawyers I have named met at Bridgewater to take
the train for Abington to meet the last train to Plymouth to attend
the usual session of the court. When the branch train reached East
Bridgewater, Packard, who thought he knew all about the road, jumped
up and said, “Warl guntlemen, here we ar,” and they all got out to
find the train going on, and themselves in a dreary station, on a
cold and dark November night, seventeen miles from Plymouth. There
was only one thing to do, to hire an omnibus, which they promptly
did, and they reached their destination about half past ten, cold,
hungry and cross. Hence the inquiry, “Packard, are we there?” All the
gentlemen named are dead, and were doubtless met by Packard on the
further shore with “Warl gentlemen, here we ar.” I hope he has not
landed them at the wrong station.
In 1836 Mrs. Nicolson gave up the public house, and moved to Boston
to live with her daughter, Mrs. Miller, and died in that city, June
22, 1844. The Old Colony House was kept afterwards by Zaben Olney
and William Randall, and after a further occupation as a private
residence by Moses Bates and Theodore Drew, was sold in 1835 to Mary
Howard Russell and taken down.
On the south side of Court square on the corner of School street,
there lived until 1839 a worthy old man, who for some years was
stone blind. He was Joseph Barnes, the great-grandfather of our
townsman, bearing the same name. He carried, extended out in front
of him, a staff about eight feet long, with which he tapped the
sidewalk constantly, and directed his steps without any other guide
or support. It was his privilege to live in days when bicycles,
automobiles and trolley cars had not been invented to endanger the
lives of even the far-seeing and wary. As I remember him he walked
alone through the various streets of the town, and if occasional aid
became necessary in avoiding some new obstruction, both old and young
were ready to lend it. His wife kept a little candy shop, if so it
may be called, in the front room on the east side of the front door,
and there children who thought it too far to go to Nancy and Eliza’s
shop on Market street, patronized her. It was a queer kind of a shop,
showing as its only furniture a bed and chairs, and looking glass and
table. Under the bed three or four spice boxes were placed in a row,
containing in tempting neatness assortments of candy comprising the
usual twisted parti-colored sticks, and kisses and Salem Gibraltars.
How these last received their name, and why their manufacture should
have been confined to Salem, I never knew, but there they were made,
and there they are made today, and if any of my young readers never
saw them, they had better induce their grocer to send for some and
keep them in stock. Their makers are welcome to this gratuitous
advertisement. Mr. Barnes died January 28, 1839, and the house in
which he lived was occupied some years by Nathaniel Cobb Lanman, and
finally removed to Lothrop street, when Court square was widened in
1857.